His small body was hunched over in a straight back chair that hovered over the unfortunate victim that sat across from him in a measly hard three-limbed stool. The fire that burned brightly in the fireplace to the right illuminated his deadly red eyes that dug into the low-some blood craving fiend whose body clenched with each crackle of the flames.

     Many thoughts crossed this fiend's mind as the two sat there in silence. Each time a simple question appeared in his mind, he slightly opened his mouth but the lift of the eyebrow of the devils' flower made his mouth shut. He couldn’t believe that this preteen, who appeared to be no older than thirteen, could hold so much power that it made the house buckle with pressure. The same pressure weighed down on his shoulders and unconsciously, his head drifted down and he would find himself staring at the hardwood floor.

     Small bugs crawled in between the boards, attempting to scavenge some type of food. But before they knew it, they would be sucked deeper into the dark slits and the bugs vanished. He wondered where they disappeared. Could it be the house?

      The house had a warm yet eerie feeling to it. He didn’t expect to find the witch’s house surprisingly clean and only holding several pieces of furniture that occupied the first room you saw the minute you stepped foot through the door. In a corner directly behind him were a flight of stairs that lead to the second floor. The fireplace that heated his body appeared to be the source of everything. It had marks where it had been transformed several times and back again. Almost like scars.

     “Why are you here…?” his soft voice broke the silence.

     “Well…” he lifted his head and for a brief seconded, their eyes met.

     He couldn’t tell the spawn of evil the truth. How his friends dared him to approach the house that sang a song in the night and moved by day. The nasal sound of his friends’ voice echoed in his mind, “You have to do it!” a little too loud and he swore that the boy heard it as well judging by his irritated expression. He cockily thought that knocking and running away would suffice the dare. Little did he know that the minute the door opened, his body would be forced in and he would find himself sitting before a fire, and a preteen.

     “Well what?” the boys' patience dwindled with each second and he gulped.

     Suddenly the front door that was directly behind the evil flower was thrown open, allowing the calming days light to enter. The fiends’ eyes darted past the boy and to the average height woman who stood in the doorway with a basket at her side. 

     With ease, she strided into the house, the door closing behind her after a couple of steps. Her long deep red hair sashayed off of her broad shoulders that held a long dark purple dress and short sleeves. The overwhelming smell of cinnamon and nutmeg entered the room, lightening it up. Her figure stopped right by the chair and her crystal blue eyes glimmered at the fiend.

     “Joy darling who is this? A friend?” she practically mocked, leaning against the chair.

     “No just some annoying bloodsucker.” He promptly answered.

     “Well-” a soft smile slid across her face, “I guess this is fine. The house didnt eat him.” She snapped her fingers.

     The fire immediately went out and the curtains to the windows swooshed to the side, letting the light in. The table that was pushed to the wall, gently walked over to the middle and the chairs followed. A mop, a bucket, and a broom danced their way downstairs ready to clean.

     “Hello, bloodsucker. I am Danse Macabee Black, and this here is my son, Joy. We are pleased to have you here in our humble abode.”